


why can't we be friends, when we are lovers?

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Series: Newton Geiszler? Oh, he fucks. [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Hermann is the worst john ever, M/M, Newt is amused by this poor sweet weirdo, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Prostitution, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:51:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: Hermann is lonely and decides to hire a call boy. Newt is going to show him a good time.





	why can't we be friends, when we are lovers?

**Author's Note:**

> Request from feriowind! Thanks for the prompt! The whole of this AU's plot is much longer than this fic, so I'm planning on a series of one-shots to tell the overarching story.
> 
> Title taken from "Sincerity is Scary" by The 1975, which has nothing to do with sex work but the line was basically perfect to describe what's going on in the fic and I listened to it on a loop while writing this.

When one of his peers recommends that Hermann try a call service, Hermann thinks they are trying to insult him. Because really, Hermann Gottlieb, hiring a call boy? Absurd. He's certainly not had a partner in a while, and though his youthful libido has taken a turn towards the continually frustrated, that's nothing his hand and an oversized bottle of lubricant can't fix, is it?

"Oh, just give it a go, Gottlieb," the man had said, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're such a disagreeable bastard lately. You don't have to sleep with them. Maybe just have a good chat. They can't throw a drink in your face if you're paying them to listen."

 _Well then_. He's going to be filing a sexual harassment complaint, immediately.

And yet, that evening, two glasses of good whiskey in his system and the call service number burning a hole in his pocket, he figures, what the hell? The worst he has to lose is a few hundred dollars.

So, he calls the number, tells the woman on the line the code phrase that will transfer him to the service, requests his preference in a partner (male, late twenties to earlier thirties like himself, neither skinny nor large, a little bit of personality, if they could), and then pops out to an ATM. Of course, they tell him the price to hire one of the call boys will be the maximum amount he can take out of the ATM. It's not as though he can really argue pricing on this kind of service. Certainly, whomever is selling their body to him this evening deserves a good paycheque.

The knock on his door twenty minutes later sends Hermann scrambling from his seat on the armchair in his living room. He finds himself checking his hair in the hall to make sure it's well groomed, and his teeth to make sure there’s no food caught between them. It isn't as if the man in his hallway will care -- he's paid not to -- but still. Hermann feels that the least he can do is look presentable.

When he opens the door, his gaze goes down a few inches to land on a shock of messy brown hair, inquisitive eyes and a laid-back smile. The man is nothing like what he was picturing, and yet checks every box he requested. He looks to be around Hermann's age, and wears a tight black T-shirt and jeans, the slightest bit of pudge visible against the outline of the shirt. His arms are decorated with all sorts of colorful tattoos, clown fish and dolphins and stingrays, and... is that _Godzilla?_  There are string and leather bracelets banding his wrists. He's gone heavy on the black eyeliner but nothing else, and Hermann likes it immediately, because it frames his lovely eyes -- makes them pop.

"Hermann?" the man asks.

"Yes, that's me," Hermann says, stepping back and sweeping an arm. "Come in. Nice to meet you."

"Mhmm," the man says, walking inside. Hermann sees his gaze flicking about the place, taking in the simple, threadbare decor of an academic's life: the well-worn couch, the tea-stained coffee table, the coat three seasons old flung over the corner of the closet door. His eyes flick to Hermann's cane for a moment, but only seemingly to note the detail, looking back at Hermann's face immediately and tucking his hands into his pockets.

"The name's Newt," the man -- Newt -- says, leaning against the arm of the couch, like a casual acquaintance instead of a man Hermann just hired to have sex with him. "You ever done this before?"

"Can't say that I have," Hermann says, settling in his armchair, feeling very odd about sitting while Newt is standing, but this is his own bloody home. There's no need to be nervous. "Newt? Like the lizard?"

Newt smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "Nah, like the scientist. Isaac Newton?" 

"Oh. Your parents were intellectually minded, then? Unless that isn't your real name- I'm sorry, that isn't any of my business."

"It's fine," Newt says, waving a hand. "It is my real name. My mom was on a kick reading about the Enlightenment when she had me."

"Quite a fascinating time period," Hermann replies, resting his hands on his cane, elbows on his knees. "And a fascinating scientist."

"Believe me, I've heard everything about him; nothing's new to me at this point. You study any of the STEM fields with a name like mine and people are bound to put their two cents in."

"Oh, you've been to college then?" Hermann asks.

Newt frowns. "Is that a surprise?"

"No, I- ah, I apologize," Hermann says, realizing he's made a rather rude judgement about Newt's education by his trade. "I'm an academic myself."

"Yeah, I could tell that by the half dozen textbooks and journal article printouts on your desk," Newt says, motioning to the rolltop in the corner that's rolled open. "What's your field?"

"Mathematical Physics," Hermann replies. "And yours?"

"Marine Biology," Newt says. "Grad school is expensive, so..." he motions between them. "There's this."

"Ah. Yes." Hermann has some loans he's paying off, but most of his academic career was covered by his parents' salaries. He can't say he'd have taken the same route to paying his way through school that Newt has, but then again, he's never had to consider it. "So, what exactly does this... involve?"

"Pretty much whatever you want," Newt says, shrugging. "There's a few ground rules. First, we use condoms. I always bring my own, and I've got non-latex ones if you're allergic-"

"I'm not, but I admire the preparation," Herman says, smiling. "Very responsible."

"Yeah, well, I'm not trying to catch anything, and some people will make excuses because they wanna go bareback. Rule number two," Newt says, lifting up two fingers, as if he'd forgotten to do so on the first rule. "Lube is a requirement for anything involving penetration."

"Of course," Hermann says, nodding. "I'd certainly want you to be comfortable."

Newt smiles. "You'd be surprised how low that tends to fall on the list of priorities."

"Well I don't want to _hurt_  you."

"I mean, we can do some pain play if that's your thing, but nothing that causes permanent scarring or damage or bleeding," Newt says, lifting up a third finger, and then a fourth. "Also, no transferal of any bodily fluids, excretions, or waste products."

"I'm not sure I want to even know what that involves," Hermann mutters, holding up a hand when Newt opens his mouth, as if he's going to tell him. "No, I'm certain I'm fine with not knowing. I'm not looking for anything out of the ordinary. Hell, I wasn't even sure about doing this," he says, sighing and rubbing his temples.

Newt pushes up onto his feet, slipping his sneakers off next to the couch and padding across the room. He kneels down in front of Hermann, resting his hands on Hermann's knees. Up close, he's quite pretty, and his hands are warm and soft. Hermann feels his skin tingling, heating up, and an unsurprising, pleasant throb in the base of his balls.

"Do you want me to take the lead?" Newt asks, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss against the fabric of Hermann's slacks, right over his groin. Hermann shivers and leans back, resting his cane against the chair.

"You can for now," Hermann replies, reaching out and running a hand through Newt's hair. Newt makes a pleased noise and noses at the zipper, reaching up to begin unbuttoning Hermann's slacks. "I'm sure I'll grow a little confidence soon enough."

"Something's growing, alright," Newt teases, inching the zipper down tooth by tooth. "You wanna get your own condoms, or should I use mine?"

"I'm a little lacking," Hermann admits, swallowing and shifting his hips to help Newt get his trousers farther down. "You have, ah, multiple sizes, yes?"

"Mmmm, of course, honey," Newt purrs, tugging at the hem of his slacks and boxers. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Some guys get really defensive about how small they- oh."

"Yes," Hermann says, blushing and looking skywards. "Small isn't the issue."

"Well, I carry a few extra-large with me too," Newt says, tapping Hermann's hand and drawing his gaze back down. Newt grins at him, then looks back at his cock, finally free of its confines, thick and long and quite troublesome to hide during his teenaged years of uncontrolled libido and unwanted erections. "Jesus. Look, size isn't everything, but _damn_."

"Is- is it too much?"

Newt laughs, shaking his head and reaching into his pocket. "Nah, dude. I've had worse, it's just been a while and I usually need a little extra preparation to take something like this."

"Whatever you need," Hermann stammers, watching as Newt tears open a condom and carefully rolls it over his prick, already beaded with pre-come. It has been a damn while since he's had a partner, and he's usually not this sensitive to touch. He's afraid he's going to end up getting a (probably fantastic) blowjob and that will be it. Then again, with his pent-up libido, he's sure to be ready to go again quite quickly. If that's something call boys do? Hermann doesn't quite remember the terms of this arrangement.

"You ready?" Newt asks, hands splayed at the sides of Hermann's groin.

"How, erm, how long do we have for all this?" Hermann asks, resisting the urge to thrust up. Newt's mouth is so close, and condom or not, Hermann bets it will feel so wonderful around his cock. "I mean, if I come from this..."

"Relax, dude," Newt says, flicking his tongue out to swipe against the tip of the head. Hermann groans, digging his hands into the arms of the chair. "I work on an hourly basis. You've got three hours to have fun with me, and we can negotiate for longer if you need it. You can come as many times as you can fit in that time period."

Then he opens his mouth and swallows Hermann about halfway down, puffing his cheeks out to accomodate the girth. Hermann gasps, his head thrown back, and he can't help but buck up a little, because good god, it feels bloody _amazing_ , and Newt must've planned for this, because he takes the thrust easily, his tongue sliding up the underside of Hermann's shaft and drawing it inwards. The heat is dizzying; Hermann won't say he's forgotten what it's like to receive oral sex from another man, but surely it was never this wonderfully warm and soft, surely the slide was never this smooth, surely his cock never ached this hard with the need for attention. Is it the length of time? Is it Newt? He can't say.

Newt slides off him almost off the way, sucking on his oversensitive head before licking his tongue down the shaft, right over the vein, and it throbs with a little burst of pleasure. Hermann whines, biting his lip and looking down, meeting the gaze of the man swirling circles around the head of his prick. Newt looks as though he's enjoying this: eyes half-lidded, breaths coming in short pants. But it could all be an act, Hermann can't quite be sure. If it is an act, Newt knows how to put on quite the show.

"Is it good?" Newt asks, hands skimming across the tops of Hermann's thighs. "Do I need to do anything differently?"

"N-no..." Hermann says, hands twitching where they grip the fabric of the armchair. "Can- Can I touch you?"

"Of course," Newt says. He reaches up with both hands, clasping Hermann's palms and drawing them down to rest on the top of Newt's head. "Like that?"

"Mhmm," Hermann replies, threading his fingers through Newt's hair. He tugs and Newt whines softly, sending a jolt of need down Hermann's spine. Newt liked that, Hermann swears it. Nobody's that good at acting, right?

"Hermann, do you wanna fuck my throat?" Newt asks, pressing a kiss to the side of his cock. "You can, I just need to get my head angled right."

"You're sure?" Hermann asks. "God, I want to, Newt, I do."

Newt smiles, nodding. "Just gotta position myself correctly. You keep your hands right where they are -- yeah, hold on." He pushes up off his knees, but only slightly, bending his neck down, forehead pressing into Hermann's stomach as he takes Hermann down his throat again. Hermann hisses, gripping Newt's hair and digging his toes into the carpet. He mustn't thrust yet, he doesn't want to hurt Newt. No one _ever_  lets him do this, not that he blames them. So, if he’s offered this, he's not going to fuck it up.

When he thinks he can hardly stand to wait another moment, Newt gives him a thumbs up, and Hermann wastes no time, thrusting up as he pushes Newt's head down. He's enveloped by a delicious, dizzying heat, and the little whine Newt makes just adds to the appeal.

"Oh _god_ ," Hermann cries, gasping and thrusting up again. "Newt, yes, bloody _Christ!_  You feel wonderful. What a talent." He hears Newt snort and can't help but grin himself. Yes, it's all very silly, but it's also lovely, the way Newt's throat swallows and tightens around his prick, his lips tickling at the bottom of his shaft, puffs of air blown out his nose against the curls of hair at his base. 

Newt pushes his hands under Hermann's thighs, wrapping his arms around Hermann's legs and holding on as Hermann fucks his throat. His back is trembling, it can't be a terribly comfortable position, half-kneeled and bent over like this, but luckily for him, Hermann isn't going to last much longer. A few more thrusts and a shout that his neighbors almost certainly hear, and Hermann is tumbling over the edge, holding onto Newt's hair for dear life as he empties his load. Newt doesn't move until the little aftershocks have passed, and Hermann slumps back against the chair, panting.

When Newt moves off Hermann, he kneels back and coughs a bit, holding up a hand when Hermann leans forward to ask if he's alright.

"It's fine," Newt says. "Just getting my breath back. Did you enjoy that?"

" _Yes_ ," Hermann pants, and Newt laughs. It makes him look so lovely, twists something long forgotten open in Hermann's chest. He reaches down and grabs Newt's shoulders, tugging and hoisting him up and forwards to kneel on the armchair, straddling Hermann's hips. "Can I- Can I kiss you? Is that done?"

"This isn't Pretty Woman, dude," Newt says, winking. "If it makes you feel good, then go ahead."

Hermann cups his jaw and tugs him down for a kiss, fiercely wanting in a way that shouldn't be possible for someone who's on the wrong side of their orgasm. He keeps one hand on Newt's jaw, the other traveling down to flick open the button on Newt's jeans and tug the zipper down.

"You don't have to-" Newt begins.

"I want to," Hermann cuts him off, worrying Newt's lower lip, pleased when he moans softly. "I want to see you feel good."

"Okay," Newt says, digging into his pocket again. He presses a condom into Hermann's palm, nodding. "This has to go on. Then you can go nuts."

Newt is a lovely size, nothing intimidating but nothing to laugh at. Hermann rolls the condom onto him and works him in slow, smooth strokes, exploring his welcoming mouth. He tastes of mint gum, and something sweeter underneath, like he was chewing on candy before he got here. Hermann imagines he must be the sort of person to love snacks, and maybe practices his -- frankly -- fantastic oral abilities on lollipops in his spare time. He's quite sensitive and responsive to Hermann's hand, and even if some of it is an act, Hermann can't imagine all those moans and whimpers are fake. Hermann certainly wouldn't call himself the most amazing lover, but he's no blushing virgin or idiot. He understands how to make a partner feel good. And Newt certainly looks like he feels good, and that makes Hermann feel good too.

"You should s-stop," Newt says after a while, tugging on Hermann's shoulders when he continues to stroke. "Jesus... Don't you want to fuck me?"

"Are you in a rush?" Hermann quips, smirking when Newt curses and bites his lip. "I thought you said I had you for three hours. According to the wall clock, it's only been an hour or so."

"The more time you focus on m-me, the less I can focus on you," Newt counters, dropping his forehead to Hermann's shoulder. It feels only natural to rest his free hand on Newt's back, rubbing circles into the muscle as his other hand works Newt over. "I'm supposed to make you feel good..."

"This does feel good," Hermann mumbles, chuckling in his ear. "You're so sensitive, Newt. I like watching you. Besides, if I fuck you without getting you off first, then you won't last nearly as long taking my cock."

"That's not the point, _oh..._ " Newt moans. "So I'll come quickly. Whatever. Doesn't mean you have to stop fucking me."

"True," Hermann admits, thumbing across the head of Newt's cock and smiling when he groans and bucks forward. "But I bet you look so nice when you come after a nice long ride, yes? I'd like to see that."

"So, what, you're gonna- gonna get me off now and then again?" Newt asks, whimpering against Hermann's neck. "You know you're the one paying _me_ , right?"

"Is it really that abnormal to want to see a partner feel good?" Hermann asks. He can feel Newt's cock starting to twitch under his grip. He's close.

"Most people don't care whether I get off. Not the point," Newt replies. "Fuck... Hermann, I'm gonna come if you don't stop!"

"Then come," Hermann says, catching his mouth in a kiss, his free hand cupping the back of Newt's head and holding him still. Newt squirms in his lap, and the way he practically shatters apart when his release shudders through him, collapsing against Hermann's chest, a low, keening cry bubbling up his throat, is so utterly gorgeous, that Hermann thinks anyone who wouldn't want to see it is a bloody fool. Hermann is half hard again just watching him.

"You're definitely one of the weirder johns I've ever been with," Newt pants against his mouth, laughing in the next breath. "Gonna buy me dinner next?"

"Mmmm, I'm not opposed," Hermann replies. "But it's quite late in the evening, and we've still a few activities to go."

"Yeah. You’re weird," Newt repeats, sitting back. "That isn’t bad. Just, unusual." He looks down at their laps, pinching the bottom of his condom as he slides off Hermann's lap. "Can I use your bathroom? I should clean up before we go on."

"Certainly," Hermann replies. His condom thankfully stayed fairly stationary during the encounter; he's not quite sure he ever really grew soft. But he's also going to need a bit of a wash up before they continue. "You can use the shower if you'd like. Second door down the hall. When you're done, the first door is the bedroom, you can join me in there."

Newt nods and tucks himself back into his jeans, plodding down the hall. Hermann rises, cracking the knot in his back and moving to the kitchen. He wants to give Newt a little privacy to take care of himself, so he tosses the condom in the kitchen trash and wipes himself down with a hand towel. He kicks his slacks off, pulls his boxers back up, and moves to the bedroom. The shower head is running, so he lies down on his bed and grabs a book from his nightstand.

His eyes travel over the page, but he can't read, too curious, too excited to continue. Is Newt buying some time? He'll be tight if Hermann tries to penetrate him now; they'll need to wait a bit, and Hermann is fine with that. He's always been about quality over quantity, and Newt is certainly a _quality_  lay. But maybe Newt is worried, maybe he thinks Hermann will move too fast, be too eager, despite Hermann’s earlier insistence that he doesn't want to hurt Newt. Hermann imagines that plenty of men have said that to Newt, and then in the heat of the moment, forgotten all about their earlier promises.

His nerves climb down from their high perch when the showerhead turns off. Hermann listens to footsteps slapping against the bathroom tile, the rustle of a towel, and the creak of the door as it opens. A few more steps, and there's a knock on the bedroom door.

"Come on in," Hermann says, tossing the book aside and sitting up. "No need to knock."

Newt opens the door, and Hermann's breath catches in his throat. He's only wearing a towel around his hips, his chest exposed, and Hermann sees that the tattoos cover quite a bit of area, though some are outlined and clearly unfinished. His nipples are pink and pert against the colorful background, the locks of his hair drip with water, falling across his face. His jeans and shirt are slung over one elbow, and the string and leather bracelets remain around his wrists. Hermann is almost certain he can see teeth marks in the leather, as if he chews on them as a nervous tic. Or if he needs to muffle a cry.

"Is this alright?" Newt asks, gripping the edge of the towel in one fist. "If you'd rather not see the tats, I can put my shirt back on."

Hermann shakes his head. "Take the towel off, if you would? I want to see all of you."

Newt glances to the side and sees the chair tucked under Hermann's desk. With a permissive nod from Hermann, he drapes his clothes over the back of the chair and then steps towards the bed. He seems hesitant, but then he lets go of the towel, and it drops to the floor. The trail of tattoos continue onward, ending on his hips and framing his cock, along with a neatly trimmed thatch of hair. He's flaccid right now, but that makes sense; Hermann hopes to change that very quickly.

Newt folds his arms behind his back, waiting for whatever Hermann will ask him to do.

Hermann reaches out a hand.

"Come here, please?" he asks.

It feels important to ask permission, even though the money is supposed to be all the permission he needs.

Newt slides onto the bed, and Hermann draws him to straddle his lap again. "With my leg, it's easier if you're on top," Hermann explains, reaching up to cup Newt's jaw and guide him down to kiss him again.

"Do you want me facing you, or away?" Newt mumbles. "If you sit up a little more, I can ride you in, like, a kneeling doggy style position."

"That sounds a bit silly," Hermann says, nipping at his mouth. "I can't kiss you if you're facing away."

"Some people like it," Newt explains. "They can pretend I'm someone else that way. Whoever they need me to be."

"I really don't need you to be anybody but yourself," Hermann says, smoothing his hands up Newt's waist, savoring the little shiver that runs through Newt's body at the light touch. "No, I'd like to see you."

"Okay," Newt replies. He pulls back and holds one of the condoms he's been fisting out to Hermann. "This is my last one in your size. I'll have to go get more if you want to ride me again later."

"We'll see where we are after this," Hermann says, taking the condom and tearing it open. He's been hard again for a while, but nothing like the near painful, desperate arousal from earlier. This is a more muted, low-key thing, a simmering pleasure that will take a little more work to draw out but will be all the better for it.

Newt unwraps his own condom as Hermann rolls his on, and then Hermann reaches towards the nightstand, where he's already set the small bottle of lubricant he keeps inside.

"Do you do this yourself?" Hermann asks, offering Newt the bottle.

Newt nods and takes it from him, popping the cap. "I'll be quick," he says, slicking three of his fingers up. Hermann clasps Newt's hand when he tries to give the bottle back and makes him pour more onto his fingers.

"I know what it usually takes," Hermann says, smirking. "I told you, I don't want you getting hurt. Take whatever time you need."

"This is gonna sound rude," Newt says, reaching behind himself. He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as he pushes one finger into himself. "But you kinda suck at this whole 'hiring a prostitute to get your rocks off' thing."

"It doesn't just _sound_ rude," Hermann chides. He leans forward and flicks his tongue against one of Newt's nipples, snickering when Newt lets out a little squeak and opens his eyes to gawk at Hermann. "It _is_ rude. It's my bloody money. If I want to spend it having a very nice, slow and mutually enjoyable encounter with someone, then I will. Quality over quantity, Newt. And it has been quality so far, I can say."

"Well, be sure to post that review on Yelp, once they introduce a section for sex work," Newt quips, gasping when Hermann brushes a hand against his half-hard cock. "I mean, do what you like, I guess? I just want you to get your money's worth."

"I'll be the judge of that," Hermann says. He tests a theory, lapping his tongue across Newt's other nipple, smiling when Newt yelps again and squirms. "You're quite sensitive, aren't you?"

"N-no shit," Newt chokes out, biting his lip. "Always worse the second time around, fuck..."

"Keep opening yourself up," Hermann commands, hands encircling Newt's waist, tugging him closer to trail his lips down the center of Newt's sternum. He feels Newt shift, the tension in his hips as he pushes another finger inside of himself, and he's starting to shake, his cock having returned to its former eager hardness.

"I... I think I can t-take you now," Newt gasps, the tendons in his arm tensing as he moves to push those fingers deeper.

"Nonsense," Hermann mumbles. His hands are already behind Newt, it's easy to reach down, find where the man's hand is working himself open and encourage a third finger to join the first two. "Four, Newt. I won't take you unless you can fit four fingers inside yourself. Do you need more lubricant?"

"Maybe a little... yeah, thanks," Newt says as Hermann grabs the bottle and squeezes a generous dollop over his knuckles. "Sorry it's taking so long. I can, like, do other shit if you're getting impatient. I can probably suck you off while I'm doing this."

"No," Hermann says, grabbing his hips when Newt tries to slide back. "I told you. I like watching you. Stop worrying that I'm bored, or annoyed, or impatient, or not having a good time."

"Kinda my job here, dude," Newt replies. He's rolling his hips, fucking himself on his own fingers, and Hermann can see a bit of pre-come through the latex condom, leaking off the tip of his cock. He's panting, the tip of his tongue jutting out between his parted lips. It's gorgeous, _he's_  gorgeous. Hermann is tempted to drag him down and kiss him mercilessly, to lick and lap his way into that mouth, nip at his lips, down his jaw, his throat, suck on his collarbone, mark him, claim him, even if Newt isn't really his to have besides these short few hours. But just for tonight...

"One more," Hermann whispers, smiling at the broken little whine that Newt makes when he wiggles that last finger inside himself. "There, beautiful, you've done it."

"Please fuck me," Newt begs, free hand planting down on the bed as he jerks his hips, his cock rubbing up against Hermann's. "Please, _please_."

"Yes, yes, alright," Hermann agrees, squeezing even more lubricant onto his own cock, smoothing it down the length. Newt might talk a big game, but Hermann is the only one with experience with his own cock, and trying to wield it with other partners. Besides, he doesn't know what Newt's last few days have been like. If he's been with other men, he might be sore, might have had someone be rough with him, might not be as up to this as he claims to be. So it's no hardship to take a few more moments to make sure this will be comfortable for them both.

Hermann shifts down to lie flat on his back, watching as Newt hovers over him and grips him firmly, guiding him as Newt sinks downwards. There's an amazing pressure as Newt slides lower, inch by inch, eyes clenched shut and lip bitten in the expression of a man trying to solve a very difficult equation, or in this case, fit a large peg in a somewhat smaller hole. Hermann hopes he knows what he's doing, hopes he'll stop if it's too much, because Hermann's higher brain functions have gone offline, short circuited by the tight heat enveloping him in an agonizingly slow crawl. Good lord, Newt is a vice around him! He can feel his own heartbeat through his prick, the small tremors of Newt's body as he sinks further and further, until he's finally seated, shivering and still on Hermann's lap.

"Are you alright?" Hermann asks, stroking a hand down Newt's side. Newt's head is bowed, his breathing shallow, but he nods, and Hermann sees his mouth widen into a warm smile.

"Just adjusting," Newt says, pushing his hair back and opening his eyes, which are just as warm and pleased as his smile. "It was a lot at first but now... it feels really good."

"Good," Hermann says, smiling back. "Tell me when you're ready for me to move. And no impatience, Newt. It's lovely just like this."

"Yeah, okay," Newt agrees. His hands skim at the edges of Hermann's t-shirt, one continuing to trail downwards across the spiderweb scarrification on his hip, as if he's only noticed it now. "This, it's not hurting you, right? Me being on top?"

"Like I said, this is the most comfortable position for me," Hermann explains. He catches Newt's fingers and draws them towards his face. "This wasn't the hand inside of you, correct?"

"No, why- _oh_ ," Newt swallows, watching with a rapt expression as Hermann draws Newt's fingers in to his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around Newt's middle finger. Newt lets out a short breath, and Hermann can practically see him thinking about what that tongue could do with his cock. "Christ, dude. Let me never underestimate nerdy academics ever again."

Hermann pops Newt's fingers out of his mouth, grinning. "Well, you've been the impatient one this evening, so I figured I would provide a distraction. Are you adjusted?"

"Oh, yeah," Newt says, shifting to push his weight onto his knees, off Hermann's lap. "You want to control the ride? Or you want me to?"

"Let me see what you've got," Hermann says, folding his arms behind his head, relaxing back onto the bed. "See if I should turn that Yelp review from a four star to five."

"What, it's not already five stars?" Newt teases, placing his hands on Hermann's sternum and lifting himself up. Hermann slides about a third of the way out of him, and the groan Newt lets out when he sinks back down is music, the opening chords to a grand symphony sure to follow.

Newt goes slow at first. Hermann thanks his own good sense that they both got off before this, or they'd not last long. As it is, the slow ride is agonizing; Newt remains quite tight, and he's so noisy, so eager to please Hermann, riding him harder as Hermann's breathing speeds up, his fingers digging into Newt's hips. It's more and more difficult to stop himself from thrusting up; that tight embrace lowers to meet him, but it never seems fast enough.

Finally, Hermann stills Newt's hips, observing him as he trembles above Hermann, sweat sliding down the dip of his collarbone.

"What, what's wrong?" Newt asks, licking a rogue trail of saliva from the corner of his mouth. "You stopped."

"I want to take over," Hermann answers. "You'll tell me if I'm hurting you, won't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, 'course," Newt agrees, nodding his head. "You won't though, you're gonna come soon, aren't you?"

"Mmmm," Hermann responds. "Looks like you are as well."

"If you fuck me, I sure as shit will," Newt says, panting out a laugh. "Go ahead, dude. Use me like you wanna."

So Hermann takes a firm hold of Newt's waist and bucks up, gasping at the smooth slide and the rush as he snaps his hips back down, and then up once more. Yes, that's the rhythm, that's what he was hoping for, and Newt doesn't seem to mind, seeing as he's gone down onto his palms and is moaning Hermann's name, his face so close that Hermann can't help lean up and kiss him, lapping into Newt's mouth as he thrusts into Newt's body.

It's over so quickly from there. Newt lets out a final cry and he shudders and squeezes, and it's far too much for Hermann to resist, the tight heat dragging him into his own eruption of pleasure, arching upwards and burying himself deep into Newt, riding out the shocks that flicker up his chest and down his groin, the overwhelming sweetness of connection with another person that he's been without for so long.

Hermann slumps back as Newt recovers himself, taking deep breaths, eyes closed, the hint of a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth.

"That- that was really _good_ ," Newt says, opening his eyes. He must remember himself, because he then immediately says: "I mean, uh, was it good for _you_?"

Hermann laughs and reaches up, cupping the back of Newt's neck and tugging him down for a gentle peck on the lips.

"Thank you," Hermann mutters. "It was magnificent. Truly an event to remember."

Newt grins. "That exact quote had better go in the Yelp review."

"Oh, I'd give you six stars if I could," Hermann responds, grinning back at him. "Unfortunately, I haven't yet worked out how to hack their servers. I suppose you'll have to make do with the perfect five."

Newt sits back, lifting himself off Hermann's wilting cock, and if not for the wince as he does so, Hermann wouldn't know he was in any distress. He must have gotten good at hiding it. Hermann sits up and grabs Newt's elbow.

"What's wrong?" he asks. "I said to tell me if I was hurting you, Newt."

"Don't worry about it," Newt says, shaking his head. "It's just- it's been a long week, lemme put it that way."

"You should have told me, we could've gone slower, or gotten you more prepared," Hermann insists.

There's a sadness to Newt's smile. "You're sweet. Too sweet, I think for this business. You had a good time, right?"

"I did."

"Then that's all that matters to me," Newt says, shrugging. "It's a job, dude. A very specific kind of physical labor. There are aches and pains, and sometimes I gotta take a day off, and sometimes I gotta just muddle through. Hey, do you have a clock in here?"

"I use my phone," Hermann says, watching as Newt nods and slides off the bed, walking over to his jeans. He's limping very slightly, and Hermann feels guilt, which is probably a sign that Newt is right, and he's not cut out for hiring a call boy. He enjoyed himself, he truly did! But he doesn't enjoy causing someone undue pain, and all for an orgasm? Are people really so selfish?

Newt pulls his own phone out and squints at the screen. "You've still got forty-five minutes left," he says, tucking it back into the jeans and returning to kneel on the bed. "I can run out and get some more condoms if you want to do anything else -- it won't come out of your time, that's on me."

Hermann shakes his head. "You're exhausted, and so am I. We've accomplished what I set out to do by hiring you."

"Okay, so... what _do_  you want to do?" Newt asks, resting back on his haunches. "I'm still yours for forty-five minutes, and don't get me wrong, I don't mind finishing a little early, but this is a _lot_  early, and the boss doesn't like us skipping out on paying customers. And you already agreed to the set price, so I can't really give you a discount. They don't do discounts."

"Well, we could just... talk, I suppose?" Hermann says, flailing for an answer. "Do you do that? Talk to people?"

"Oh man, those are the best ones," Newt says. "Sometimes I'll have people hire me because they're so lonely, and they just want someone to connect with, and so we'll just talk for three hours. I mean, I usually end up at least giving them head, because they feel like, 'well, I hired a prostitute, I can't just _talk_  to them, I might as well go to a therapist if that's all this is gonna be.' But some people just really want a friend. So yeah, we can talk, if you want to talk," Newt finishes.

They dispose of their condoms and get redressed, heading back out to the living room.

"Are you hungry?" Hermann asks, moving towards the kitchen. He's worked up a bit of an appetite, and he could use a cold glass of water, and maybe a hot cup of tea to top it all off.

"I'll eat if you'd like me to," Newt responds, sliding onto the barstool that sits under the island counter that divides the kitchen and the living room.

"People request that you eat for them?" Hermann asks, looking back at Newt as he opens the fridge.

"People request all kinds of weird shit," Newt responds. Hermann fills them each a glass of water, and Newt gulps his down, clearly having gone a while without a drink.

"Oh? Like what?" Hermann asks, rummaging through the fridge. "And you only should eat if you want to."

"I want to," Newt responds, putting his glass down. "So, sometimes people want to pretend we're on a date. They'll cook me a fancy meal, wine and dine me, and then eventually, when they remember what I specialize in..." He makes a circle with two fingers and thrusts the index of his other hand in and out, waggling his eyebrows.

Hermann snorts, pulling out some Tupperware. "Are eggs alright? And are you allergic to anything?"

"Eggs are fine. And no, no allergies."

"Go on, a dinner date seems rather normal."

"That's definitely the most 'normal' one," Newt responds, watching as Hermann moves to the stove and pulls a frying pan from out of a cabinet. "One woman wanted to teach somebody to knit, except I had to pretend to be all clumsy with the yarn and get myself tied up in it. Just, like, arms and legs trapped by this scratchy wool, and of course, the only place that wasn't wrapped up was my dick. I had some itchy rashes for like a week after that."

"Amusing, but rather harmless," Hermann decides, cracking eggs into a bowl. He opens one of the Tupperware, and inside is a medley of fruit that he nudges in front of Newt, who happily pops a few pieces into his mouth. "I've certainly heard of weirder fetishes."

"Okay. Well, I get a lot of dudes into sex slave stuff. Like, pretending to buy me at an auction, collaring me, 'breaking me in,' which is usually just me getting fucked and pretending I'm _so overwhelmed_  by their magic dick that I'll submit to their every command, master!" Newt wraps one arm around his chest and presses the back of his other hand to his forehead, rolling his eyes back in a mockery of his playacting.

Hermann chuckles and leans over, snatching a few pieces of fruit to eat as he pours the scrambled eggs into the heating frying pan. "Again, it seems as though you have some kink-minded customers, but that's certainly not out of the ordinary."

"Hmmm, you're a tough nut to crack," Newt says, leaning forwards, cupping his chin and biting his tongue, one eye shut as he looks Hermann up and down. "I had to suck on a lady's toes for, like, two hours once. She came four times, and every time she made a face like this-" he pops his mouth open, cross-eyed, and Hermann guffaws at the expression, hiding his mouth behind a hand. "Dude, I had to try _so hard_  not to laugh! If she would have come a fifth time, I would have lost it."

"What's your weirdest encounter, if you don't mind me asking?" Hermann asks. He scrapes the eggs back and forth with his spatula, remembering the salt in time and adding it before they've firmed up. Then he opens the other Tupperware he's brought out, tossing some diced ham and cheese into the mix. It's a simple meal, but one he goes to often, never having the time to cook more elaborate things.

"Weirdest, hmmm..." Newt looks upwards, and Hermann waits for him to sift through the memories, until he twitches and snaps his fingers. "Oh, shit. Of course! So this dude wanted me to go with him to his dad's funeral. I'm talking, pretending to be his partner, attending the wake and ceremony itself, and even the burial. He put out a lot of cash to basically have me for the weekend. We had some pretty banging sex- but anyway, the weirdest shit happened at the burial. He made us wait until everyone left, and the gravediggers had buried the casket, and it got dark out. Let me tell you, some john tells you to wait until dark in an empty graveyard and you get nervous. But finally, we got out of the car and he put me down right over his dad's grave and fucked me, right there."

"You can't possibly be serious!" Hermann gasps. He realizes that he's been ignoring the eggs for Newt's story, and quickly stirs them and takes them off the heat, pulling out two plates.

"Dead serious, dude, no pun intended. He was fucking me doggy, and he asked me to not wear a condom so that when I came, I shot, _boom_ ," Newt says, clapping his hands together. "Right into the dirt. And when he came, he took his own condom and emptied it all out into the dirt too."

"There must have been a reason behind that," Hermann says, placing the plate in front of Newt and handing him a fork. He walks around the island and takes the stool next to Newt, happy to see the other man digging into the eggs with a feverish glee.

"Of course," Newt says through a mouthful of egg. He swallows and continues. "Nobody does that Freudian shit without a reason. Turns out his dad was a giant homophobe who never accepted his son as gay, so it was kind of like an 'up yours' thing. Couldn't accept his son in life, so he can spend eternity with the jizz from some awesome gay sex right over him. I think it really gave the guy some peace, you know? He cried on my shoulder in the car after and thanked me a lot. Never saw him again, but I'd like to think he's gone on to find some awesome boyfriend and is raising two-point-five little gremlins."

Hermann doesn't eat much of his eggs, but only because Newt is a fascinating conversation partner. He's got some wild stories, and after he's exhausted those, Hermann asks him about his schooling. Newt is cryptic about exactly where he studies, but he's eager to talk about his field, twisting his arms around to show off the various sea creatures inked on them and explaining his love for each one. He talks about a future saving the whales, or running an aquarium, or discovering new species deep in the depths of the ocean. And then he turns the conversation around on Hermann, saying that he's curious about what exactly a mathematical physicist does, so Hermann regales him with the last ten years of his academic career, the papers he's published on theoretical physics, some of the more amusing students he's had, and a foundational explanation of his field. Newt has no trouble comprehending some of the trickier theorems about particle physics and reveals that he's fascinated by the physical laws of liquid itself, and how marine life travels and communicates through water.

When an alarm goes off in Newt's pocket, Hermann is enjoying himself so much, he's almost forgotten the reason Newt is here. He finds himself genuinely wondering if it's worth running out to take a little more money out so he can keep Newt's company; it's past midnight, and he has funds available again... but no. He's kept Newt long enough. He can see the other man lagging, hand cupping his cheek, eyes drooping, the toll of his long week coming on hard.

"Are you going home?" Hermann asks, finding his wallet in his coat pocket. "You don't have another appointment tonight, do you?"

"Mmmmm, no," Newt says, watching as Hermann counts out the bills. "I'm done for the night. Gonna go home and hit the hay for a few hours. I've got class in the morning."

"Do you need me to call you a cab?" Hermann asks as he hands over the money. Newt thumbs through the cash much faster than he did, clearly practiced in making sure he's getting paid right.

"I'll be alright. It's getting cooler and the walk will keep me awake." Newt moves towards the door and Hermann trails him, keeping a respectable distance. Their time is over, Newt is no longer obligated to him for anything.

"Are you sure?" Hermann asks. Newt turns to face him, tiling his head and giving Hermann a curious look. "It's very late, and it can be dangerous out there. I'd rather ensure you get home safe."

Newt smiles, leans forward and kisses him, a firm press of the lips, and then he's pulling away, leaving Hermann wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Sweet and weird," Newt says, opening the door. "But mostly, sweet. I'll be fine, honey. I'm fiercer than I look."

"I don't doubt it," Hermann replies. He knows he's blushing, can feel his cheeks heating up, but damn it if he doesn't care.

Newt steps into the hall of the apartment complex, glancing left and right, before looking back at Hermann. 

"I hope you find a nice guy too, Hermann," Newt says to him, winking. "You deserve somebody. But if you get lonely again, give us a call. All the guys I work with would love an evening with you."

"Are we allowed to make requests?" Hermann asks, leaning against the doorframe. "For who we'd like to see?"

Newt smiles. "If you want to. You don’t have to choose me; all the boys are great. I wouldn’t say no to coming back, though."

"I'll keep that in mind," Hermann responds, nodding. "Stay safe, Newt. Good night."

He shuts the door and leans against it, listening to Newt's feet pad down the hall carpet, and the creak of the door to the stairwell.

Maybe Newt is right. Maybe all the men who work for this call service are lovely and engaging. Maybe they'll show him a good time, and maybe he'd be satisfied with their service. Maybe Newt isn't all that special.

But Hermann doesn't think so. And he knows, if he calls back, he'll be requesting only Newt.


End file.
